


The Small Town Life

by eveningstar



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Le Roman Picaresque, M/M, mob pov character, post-Picaresque
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 19:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16667128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveningstar/pseuds/eveningstar
Summary: With apologies to Damon Runyon.





	The Small Town Life

There sometimes comes a time in a gentleman's life when he finds that though the autumn leaves are falling, life in the city is a little too hot as to be comfortable. At such a time, it is most convenient to have amongst one's acquaintances a couple of pals who experience similar heat some time previous and, finding it to be not amenable to their constitution, retire themselves to the peace and quiet of the small town life.

So it is the most natural thing in the world that when Officer Johnson repays a certain favour which I am owed by him by warning me that the city air is about to blow particularly warm over the next day or two, on account of some high brass visiting from out of state, that I go to visit two such pals of my own, who go by the caps of Lansky and Luciano. It being quite some time since I see these two pals of mine, I flatter myself that they will be very glad to see me.

"What are you doing here?" says Luciano, in a way that implies he is more than somewhat displeased by my arrival on his doorstep.

To be certain, it is not very much in the proper way of manners to not write in advance to my dear old friends to notify them of my visit, but I do not expect them to be so adjusted to the country ways that they react so uncomfortably to a surprise visit from an old friend. In the city, surprise visits are a part of life,  though they are generally unpleasant, often coming from the gendarmes, the bookies, the husband of a girl one thinks well of or some other manner of tough guy. Now, if I am one such tough guy, I can understand the disappointment with which my friends receive me, however, I am not a tough guy but an old business associate, with whom, I believe, these two friends share many fond memories, and to whom Luciano, at least, owes more than a few bits.

I begin to explain the circumstances that compel me to remove myself from the city, but as soon as I mention Officer Johnson, Luciano pulls me inside.

Lansky steps into the hall and says to Luciano, "What is he doing here?"

So much for hospitality! I tell them about Officer Johnson’s weather forecast, and neither Lansky nor Luciano look any more pleased to see me than they do when I arrive, and frankly, I am beginning to feel a little hurt. I am perhaps a little peevish when I remind Luciano of the many bits he owes me.

They allow me into their home, if not very graciously, and I remark that even outside of town, folks are doing it hard, when two gentlemen such as Luciano and Lansky are compelled to share a residence. I see my friends share a look at this, and, fearing I may have caused them some offence, I append the following to my previous remark:

"Although, it is a very fine residence."

I say this out of truth rather than flattery, for it is quite fine indeed, in the manner one expects from a small town, with a garden and a welcome mat and such novelties that one does not see in town.

“You can sleep in Benjamin’s room,” says Lansky, offering no thanks for my compliment, which I find more than somewhat rude. I cannot savvy why he is so sore at my coming to visit, and I start to wonder if I upset some excitement they plan for the evening, though what excitement there is to be found in a small town I do not know.

"The room you share with Benjamin," Luciano reminds Lansky, looking him in eyes and speaking with a strange intensity. "You will need to take your things out of the room."

Lansky seems just as surprised, as though he forgets that this Benjamin character’s room is also his. I wonder if the small town life has slowed his brain somewhat, as Charlie the Snake says it is apt to do. According to Charlie the Snake, this is why all small town guys are such dupes as will eagerly put money on a horse what my grandma could outrun should some operator in a sharp suit (such as Charlie) tell him it is a sure thing.

So Lansky goes to fix up the room and I inquire to Luciano as to the nature of this Benjamin character who is sharing a room with Lansky, as this is the first time I hear of any Benjamin. Luciano informs me that he is Lansky’s little brother and away on a Boy Scouts camp for the evening.

I never know that Lansky has a brother, but I suppose I never know much about Lansky at all, as he keeps much to himself, which is why it is so unusual that he seems content to shack up with Luciano like this.

Personally, I find it more than somewhat sad that this small town has so little nightlife that two gentlemen in their prime are spending it home by the fireside, so to speak, but, of course, I do not say this, as I do not wish to cause my hosts any further offence, especially as Luciano is often quick to take offence and has a tendency to knock folk on their potatoes when he does so.  

Lansky comes back and escorts me to the room, where it seems like Lansky has let the kid have the run of the place. There are school books on the table and a baseball bat lying next to it, and one bed that is narrow enough that I figure the kid must be pretty darn small.

I freshen up from my long journey and when I go back to the kitchen I am met with the most curious sight, which is the sight of Luciano eating a small piece of cheese from Lansky’s fingers. Even more curious is the way Lansky smiles at Luciano. Suffice to say, it is not a smile I ever see on Lansky, though I never see much of any smile on Lansky, whose mug is usually as dour as November rain.

Luciano sees me and springs away from Lansky.

“You know how he is,” says Luciano, shrugging, as though eating out of Lansky’s hand is the most natural thing in the word, “He is closer than a dead heat and he cannot bear to waste a crumb.”

This checks out, as anyone who speaks to Lansky for more than five minutes will acknowledge. The surprising thing is that Lansky turns pink as a peach, when he never minds a guy pointing out his tightness before, and, if anything, seems to take a certain pride in it. He picks up a knife and starts cutting onions, and I suppose from the force with which he is cutting them, they must be very hard onions indeed.

The lasagna Lansky makes is every bit as good as Fat Tony’s and any John in town will tell you that is no mean feat as any John in town knows Fat Tony’s lasagna is the best around. Funnily, Luciano seems to take more pride in the lasagna than Lansky himself, though as I see it, Luciano does nothing but hover around and criticise Lansky for measuring too precisely, or steal bits of cheese and tomato out from under Lansky’s nose and laugh when Lansky scowls at him.

Lansky notices my confusion and tells me that it’s Luciano’s family recipe. Speaking frankly, this does not lessen my confusion any, as why is Lansky the one cooking Luciano’s family recipe?

I forget my confusion and the two gentlemen finally warm up to me somewhat when I produce a gift from Joey the Whale, a couple of bottles of red which will cause a great deal of trouble for Joey should the visiting brass find them on his premises.

Luciano puts a record on, one of those Italian crooners, singing about the amore and Roma and what have you. Luciano croons along with the fellow, tipping his glass at Lansky in the more moony bits.  

We reminisce, as is the habit of old friends, and they ask how it goes for certain parties and I tell them, and though he does not ask, I think Luciano might care to know that Miss Lucy Parker is with the Follies now, as I recall Luciano thinks very well of Miss Lucy Parker back in the day, and for a full four months too, which says a lot for Miss Lucy Parker’s charms, as Luciano rarely thinks well of a doll for more than an evening.

Luciano is quite uncomfortable when I mention Miss Lucy Parker, which is yet another surprise as even when Luciano is no longer thinking well of a doll, he continues to hold her in esteem - it is generally assumed that this is in case he should find himself thinking well of her again, such as after she colours her hair, which, most will agree, basically makes a doll brand-new.

“Is she now?” he says and laughs, though it is not like Luciano’s usual easy laughter, and Lansky looks at him the way he looks when he is studying the plans of another gang’s hideout and looking for the smallest hole in their defences.  

“Good for her. I know that girl is going to go far, from the day I meet her. I wish her all the luck in the world with it.”

Lansky continues to look at Luciano, until Luciano smiles at him and shrugs hopelessly.

“After all,” he says, tipping his long-empty glass at Lansky again with the sly grin that earns him the name of Luciano the Fox, “I am already plenty lucky enough.”

Lansky snatches the glass Luciano is tipping at him and tells him he drinks too much, though I see Luciano drink much more than a couple of bottles back in the day. Lansky starts gathering up plates and this, it seems, is the end of our dinner party, and all I can think is that the small town life sure does change a fellow.

The next morning, I wake at the unnatural hour of seven o’clock and find Luciano in the kitchen making French toast and I tell you, if but two months prior a man says to me I will see Lucky Luciano himself in an undershirt and pyjama pants cooking breakfast like an ever-loving wife, I will say to him that he is daffy and I will fully believe it too.

Luciano hands me a cup of coffee and tells me sit down, which I do. I peruse the local paper what is sitting on the kitchen table and learn that the Georgetown Garnets beat the Phillipston Fillies in the Under 16s softball last night, which seems to be an unexpected turn for all parties, not least of all the captain of the Garnets, who, according to the article, is unable to offer a comment for shrieking. As I am wondering what kind of numbers the bookies run on Under 16s softball, Lansky stumbles into the kitchen as sleepy as Old Tom once he gets the gin in him, and takes the plate Luciano offers, and Luciano is clearly not as precise a cook as Lansky as you can barely see the toast under the snow of powdered sugar. But just like Old Tom once he gets the gin in him, Lansky doesn’t seem to have all his body parts working together, because even after he stops to take his plate his head keeps going forward towards Luciano’s.

Luciano takes a step back and clears his throat, which finally wakes Lansky up for the day. He is quite embarrassed to find himself acting like Old Tom, I suppose, because he will not look me in the eye when he joins me at the table.

For his part, Luciano must appreciate hearing about Miss Lucy Parker more than he lets on last night, because he is wearing a smile I do not see on him except when he is dancing with Miss Lucky Parker at Madame Marie’s joint some three years back.

After breakfast, which is very fine fare indeed, if a little too sweet for my tastes, Lansky tells me that if I am here, I may as well make myself useful, which is how I find myself pressed into service moving furniture with Lansky while Luciano minds the little office they set up for themselves.

The furniture belongs to a little old miss who claims she wants to move things around in order to make space for a new sofa she intends to buy, but it rapidly becomes apparent that the little old miss is less interested in her interior design than she is in Lansky’s posterior as he bends to lift her bookshelves.

Well, in a small town, I guess a guy has got to make a living however he can, and a doll has got to get her kicks however she can, and the options are fairly limited for them both.

Once the little old miss decides she sees enough for today, she dismisses us, though in the end the layout of her furniture is not much changed, and we make our way back to office. On the way, we purchase some sandwiches for lunch from a charming little store with red gingham curtains where the kindly grandpa behind the counter welcomes him as Mister Lansky and knows his order before Lansky has a chance to open his mouth. In fact, Lansky does not get much of a chance to open his mouth at all because grandpa is rattling on about the sign Mister Luciano paints for him the other day and how lovely all the customers say it is, and how Benjamin must be enjoying the Scout camp and that his boy goes every year and has an absolute stunner of a time.

Lansky laughs with the grandpa as though they are old friends, as though he lives the small town life all his days and does not pop slugs into fellows for his trade but twelve months prior. Then Lansky hands me a bottle of lemonade and I about pop off as surely as the lid of said bottle, for you see, Luciano does not tell a lie when he says that Lansky is close, for it is well known in this man’s town that Lansky is the tightest there is and that there is none tighter - not once do I hear of Lansky buying his fellow man a one-penny cough drop, let alone one entire bottle of lemonade.

It seems that the small town life must really mellow a guy out, and I find myself thinking that they ought to send all of the tough guys to the country rather than to the gaols, which only make them tougher.

We go back to the office with an extra sandwich for Luciano, who is reading some papers at a very tidy looking desk, which is mighty unusual as nothing much that starts out tidy stays that way around Luciano for long, be it room, desk, or doll. Lansky leans over Luciano’s right shoulder as he puts the old ham on rye down on the desk, so he can look over the papers which Luciano is reading, and Luciano’s reaction to this is to turn his head to the left and lift it, though he does not take his eyes off the document which he is perusing. He holds this strange pose for a moment, until he looks up in confusion and sees Lansky looking at him with the same amusement with which Charlie the Snake looks at a country boy fresh off the bus. Luciano scowls as he flushes red and Lansky plucks the papers out of his hand.

Luciano keeps scowling as he unwraps his sandwich and Lansky leans on the arm of his chair, reading through the papers. My presence is apparently entirely forgotten so I settle myself on a chair, because it is never much use talking to Lansky when he is reading documents, and not much more talking to a fellow who is eating.

When Lansky finishes looking through the papers, he tells Luciano that he does a very fine job and Luciano gets all pleasured up like a doll of sixteen when she is told her dress suits her very well.

Lansky looks at his watch and declares that it is time to collect Benjamin off one train and put me on another. I am not the sort to usually ask questions, as if one goes around asking questions, some may get the impression that you are a person who wishes to know things, but I cannot conceive of the notion of a little Lansky, especially one who goes on Scout camps and owns a baseball bat (at least not one he uses to hit baseballs), so I inquire as to what kind of a kid this little Lansky is. Luciano smiles and tells me that the nipper is a swell kid, a real swell kid. Well, this only intrigues me further, as I never meet a swell kid in town, the youth there being so degenerate, but Lansky indicates quite forcefully that I will not be meeting his brother today or any other day, for that matter.

On the platform, we say our farewells and I thank them for their hospitality, and I am all of a sudden overcome with a sadness at saying goodbye to these old pals of mine.

“You know how city life is,” I say, “All things blow over in a month or two - I am sure that if you are to visit, or even come back for good, there are plenty of citizens who will be mighty glad to see you both.”

Luciano shakes his head and tells me that the small town life is not so bad at that, with no one trying to pour slugs into you when you stick your head out a window, or introduce a shiv to your kidney in a crowd.

“But it does seem that you are rather lacking in female companionship out here,” I say, because these twenty-four hours are the longest I ever see Luciano without a doll on his arm.

This remark seems to amuse Luciano more than somewhat, and even Lansky has a hint of a smile.

“Ah, we manage, pal. We manage.”


End file.
